A New Friend for the Doctor
by Cinamon Stick
Summary: The 11th Doctor has discovered a new person. She's different, but he can't figure out why.
1. Discovering a Familiar Stranger

The streets of Manhattan swarmed with life, as always. They were filled with men women, children. There were the well-dressed, taking the smallest glances at people as they made their way to their jobs or homes. There were the small children in their coats and gloves, tugged along by their overworked parents. 'College kids' walked in small groups, sipping coffee and tea from streaming mugs, decked out in t-shirts and iPods. It was a normal busy crowed on what was a normal day in New York.

But, unbeknownst to these rushing people, there was a man. Not quite a man, but at first glance, yes, definitely a man. And an almost normal looking man at that. He walked a bit slower than the rest, watching them with an amused eye. He had round glasses and a worn tweed coat over a rumpled white collared shirt. He straightened his already strait bowtie, ducking his head. He had a twitchy and intriguing aura, which maybe people would have noticed had they taken the time.

But no. No one looked at the lanky figure.

So, without a should noticing him, this 'man' made his way to Central Park. It had been years since he'd been year. He found it a somber yet welcoming place, ever since he's lost his companions.

Have you guessed who the man was?

So, this man sat on a bench, and simply watched the people sputter past him. The park was slightly less packed than the streets, as it was covered in a thin layer of ice.

The mans keen eye caught on someone. A young woman. She sat, like him, on a stone bench twenty feet away. They were the only ones not moving. The man wasn't sure why she sparked his interest. Perhaps it was her flushed cheeks, showing how cold she truly was; the way she ignored them. Maybe the way her hair caught the wind, blowing around her face like black silk. He must have noticed the familiarity in her round face and dark eyes. It is most probable that he saw her rebellious aura like a soft mist around her. He was, after all, a very intuitive man. Her attitude wasn't angry or protestive, but rebellious none the less. It was like dark chocolate- likeable yet a little bitter.

And it is still unknown to me exactly how this man chose his companions. I'm assuming it's because of aura.

So, for an inconclusive reason, this man decided to learn more of this girl. It may seem a bit forced, but this is how it happened.

That's another thing, all of what I'm telling you is true. It may seem a little outside the bleu box, as it were, but please keep an open mind.

And so the man got up when the girl did, and made sure to bump into her as they passed. He murmured an apology, and continued on his way, glancing down at the used train ticked in his hand.

_Annabeth Ross, Age 19_

It said at the top.


	2. Research and a Meeting

The man walked into the Bates Hotel. It was a three star place, well cleaned yet lacking in enthusiasm. He wore the standard bell hops uniform, and went up to the front desk.

"I have luggage for Ms. Anastasia Ross," he said with a smile, gesturing to two suitcases.

The blonde receptionist replied without changing her expression, "Room two oh six," she handed him a key card.

A small crease formed between the mans eyebrows, "Thirteenth floor? I thought hotels weren't supposed to have those,"

the receptionist noticed his thick British accent. _Newcomer_, she thought, "It's a newer building. We're not so superstitious 'round here,"

The man raised an eyebrow at her snarkiness, "Ah, I see," without another word, he turned to the elevator. He frowned and punched the button with the number 13 on it, and finally he was on his own as the small metal room rose. Setting down the empty suitcases, he pulled out a small wand-like object that looked like it belonged in _Back to the Future _from his lapel. He shoved the thing up his sleeve, just in case he needed it. Then the doors opened with a ding as he picked up the fake luggage.

He made his way down the carpeted hall, glancing at the door numbers. _201, 204, Ah, 206_.

Opening the door withour needing the card, he stepped inside the suite. It had shite walls hung with photos and painting- undless pieces of art. The man set down the suitcases and stepped closer. He reached out a hand and his fingers traced a framed photograph. There stood Annabeth Ross, oh, and that must be her mother and father. She was a sarcastic child, that he could see. Her mother was a soft woman with kind eyes, and her father a man with black hair and glasses. They stood behind Annabeth, each with a hand on one of her shoulders.

The man moved to the next, a painting. It was a gravestone. Then a photo of a creek with birds around it. The man assumed they were made by Anastasia. He then turned his gaze to the shelf next to her nightsand. It was spilling over with books. He read _Interview With the Vampire, _the whole Harry Potter Sieries, _The Book Thief_. Then he saw some a binder. He opened it, and saw the title: **Turning Tables, by Anastasia Ross**. He read through it, sitting down on Annabeths bed. He sat there for hours, lost in her work.

When he heard the click of a key card being shoved into the slot of the door, he jumped up. He scambled toward the book shelf, hastily shoving it to where it was before. He looked around frantically for a place to hide, and saw metal steps outside the window. The fire escape. He climbed out the window, swiftly pulling the glass down. It had stopped snowing, but it was still fridged. He hunched down, with only his eyes viewable to the inside.

Meanwhile, Anastasia opened the door to her apartment. The man watched as she stumbled on the two suitcases sitting in front of the door. He'd forgotten them! He cringed, but kept quiet.

Anastasia stared down at the suitcases. She slowly looked around the apartment, then checked the bathroom. She frowned, shrugging, then sat on the bed,. She figured her best friend had come by and left them. She set down the book bag she was holding and sat on the bed, not knowing that she was being watched. The man was trying to figure out what to do. Present himself? Just leave this inhuman to her human life. He hated the thought of the last one. He decided just to watch, and see more about this rebellious girl. He watched her with strange avidity as she pulled a laptop our and set it on her lap. She clicked around for a few moments, before the steady tap tap tapping hit the mans ears. He could hear well, even through the glass.

Anastasia pressed her lips together for a moment, pausing. The man longed to know what she was thinking. Unknowingly, he was pressed against the glass.

With a loud shatter the window broke under the mans weight, and he fell in with a shower of glass. Anastasia gasped, leaping out of bed, but then jut standing there. She stared as the man stood, and took in the few cuts on his face and arms. It seemed that his thick coat had kept most of him from the glass.

The man pressed his lips together in chagrin. He put his palms up in surrender, starting to walk towards the girl.

She narrowed her eyes, "What the hell do you think you're doing?' she said, pulling a handgun out of her back pocket.

Ignoring her question and the danger, he looked at the gun, "Why do you carry a gun with you?' he asked.

The woman grimaced, noticing his accent like the woman at the front desk, "You don't walke around New York without a gun if you're smart. At least, not these parts,"

"Ah, smart girl," he remarked.

She glared, "You havn't answered my question- what are you doing at the window,"

"One thing to learn about me," he answere, his eyes shining, "Is I rarely answere questions, and definitely not to a stranger,"

"Well, considering the circumstances," a she said, rolling her eyes, "You _were_ spying on me. I think an answer is in order,"

He sighed, "Good point. Well, I can't tell you why, but I will tell you the who, It's the Doctor,"

"Doctor who?" she asked.

He grinned, loving the sound of the question, "Exsactly"

"Well, then 'Doctor', this is my room, so get out,"

"Come again?" he said.

"Out!" she barked stepping forward, pressing the tip of the gun to his lapel.

"I did forget that New Yorkers aren't the friendliest folk," he remarked without flinching,

That seemed to strike a nerve," she grumbled.

He noted that, but shoes to act as if he ignored it.

"By the way, love, you might want to put some bullets in that gun,"

"How did you…"

"I was at the window," she tensed in anger, "And I am sorry about that. So, I'd better get going," he started toward the door.

He made it down the hall before she was standing in the doorway, "Get back here,"

He smiled, his back to her, "I thought you wanted me gone,"

She sighed, "Just come on,"

So he made his way back to her room, sitting down on the bed. There was no where else to sit, so she sat next to him, crossing her arms.

"I want answeres," she said bluntly.

His eyes were sad, "To what questions? I can't answer them all,"

"Who are you? What are you doing at my window? Why are you're glothes like that. What, what," she didn't know what else to say.

"You done?' he said, winking, "Well, I've already told you ho I am; the Doctor. I was at your window because there's something very important about you, Miss Anastatia, something I don't have time to tell you, at eh moment. As for the clothes, well, I'm rather partial to bow ties," he said, shrugging.

"How did you know my name?" she asked.

"No time," he answered quickly, pulling her off the bed, "It starts in ten mintues, and you need to pack,"

"What starts?" he cut her off, "Just _pack_. No more stupid questions,"

She was about to ask another question when she was stopped by the suddenly worried look on his face. She flung into action, shoving clothes, books, and her laptop into her bag. She was ready in five minutes, shrugging into her coat. Withour pausing, he grapped her hand, tugging her into the hall. He led her quickly down the hall, passing the elevator. They raced down the stairs, running through the lobby into the cold night air.

While the Doctor pulled her down the streat, Amelia wonder where they were going, and why she was agreeing to follow him into an alley. For some reason she didn't fear this tall, quirky man, which she new was foolish. Yet she followed himdown the alley, and saw something that didn't belong in the dark dirty city.

It was a blue box. Just a wooden box with double doors, and a glowing yellow lightbublb on top. It had the words **Police Box** written on the sides.

Before she could say anything, the ground began to shake. She screamed, falling down ontot he sidewalk.

"C'mon then!" the Doctor shouted, pulling her to her feet, "We need to get inside,"

She didn't protest, running inside the blue box without wondering why. When she got in, however, her eyes widened, and she pulled back from the Doctor.

What had looked like a four by four by eight foot wooden box was now a ten-foot found dome. It had a metal ceiling and walls line with bubble windows. In the center was a raised controls center with unimaginably complicated machinery, some made from metal, others from glass-like materials to nameable things.

The Doctor didn't hesitate, running swiftly to the controls, flipping switches and punching in numbers. To anyone in that alley, they would have seen the blue box shimmer and hum before completely disappearing. Burt to Anastasia and the Doctor it was like nothing had changed at all, except that the shaking had stopped.

Still gaping at the scene, Anastasia slowly made her way towards the controls, her fingers hovering over them.

"But, it's bigger on," he stuttered.

The Doctor sighed, "Yes, yes, 'Bigger on the inside'. So, so…. Where would you like to start?"

She turned to him, "What do you mean?"

"You're questions. We have quite a lot of time now, so I figure I'd get around to answering them,"

"What is this?" she said automatically.

"A Tardis," he answere, his arm sweeping across the foom magnificently.

"Which is?" she implored.

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," he said. Might as well get everything out of the way now, "It's a time machine,"

She crossed her arms, "You can't expect me to believe you,"

He smirked, "Can't I? You did follow me here, which I'm afraid a normal girl, a careful girl, wouldn't have done,"

She pursed her lips, not responding.

"And so I ask you, Miss Anastasia, to believe me, and thereby help me,"

"Help you with what?"

"Keep what happened back _there_," he pointed at the doors they'd just come through, "from happening,"

"The earthquake?"

"Oh that wasn't an earthquake," he said.

She looked at him curiously, "Then what was it?"

He didn't miss a beat, "A twitch, of the tunnels, as it were," he pulled out a screen, staring at it with frustrated horror, "But why? Why are they moving? That's what the real question is….. we're going to have to go back," he darted to the right, punching some numbers into one of te many machines.

"You ready?" he called to Anastasia, his hand on a lever. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled it. The lights wirred for a moment, and he went to her, "Right then, twelve hours. Twelve hours to save New York,"

"Wait. I never said I would help you,"

He sighed in exasperation, "Fine. I'll just drop you off mack at your apartment then. Have fun dying," he said with urgent sarcasm, "We're wasting time,"

"Fine," she said, following him.

You may be wondering why Anastasia was so obliging to this mans orders. Well, she was too, I suppose. There was something in the back of her mind, though, something ancient, that told her to follow the man in the bow tie.

So together they rushed through the streets. The Doctor was looking for something. He would stop, glance around, then continue running, Anastasia in hot pursuit. Finally, he found it: a subway opening. He didn't bother getting a ticket, simply using his way of blending in.


End file.
